Strange Relations (Currently Marketing)
Fate has cut Claire a difficult path
through an already challenging life in the Appalachian Mountains before she's
even born. The family began its descent into madness and mayhem before the bad
omens that came with her emergence into their lives. As things spiral into
darker times the shrinking family struggles to hold on to each other and what
little they have left on a mountain that grows nothing beyond rocks and trees.
As the adults are lost to their own struggles to get the family through, the
children are left to their own devices in a maze of discovery as they thread
their way through the confusion of growing up and learning what the adults,
despite a lifetime of searching never discover. That sometimes all anyone can
do is pick up the pieces of what is left and move on with the business of
living.
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Strange Relations is told in a series of short stories that each stand alone, but also fit together like the pieces of a puzzle. It has the unique effect of telling each story from a different family member's point of view, giving the reader a more in depth appreciation of the effect the tragedies of the story have on all their individual lives, from the parents to the siblings, to the youngest child’s understanding of what is happening to them all and her undeniable horror at watching helplessly as her family is torn apart.
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Strange Relations is told in a series of short stories that each stand alone, but also fit together like the pieces of a puzzle. It has the unique effect of telling each story from a different family member's point of view, giving the reader a more in depth appreciation of the effect the tragedies of the story have on all their individual lives, from the parents to the siblings, to the youngest child’s understanding of what is happening to them all and her undeniable horror at watching helplessly as her family is torn apart.
Excerpts:
The Funeral
It was time to go. I tried to make myself obey when Dad
called for me to go get Shawn. We never went to church. Except for
today.
“Vanessa, where are you?” Dad shouted from the hallway. I could hear his footsteps grow heavier with agitation. Even the anger growing in him did nothing to dislodge me as I tried to push away the thoughts that were beginning to spin in my head. The flannel pillow in my grasp was plump and comforting as I hugged it tight. It was checkered and soft and warm like the jacket, the one that Albert had on that day. That horrible, terrible day when the car had come out of nowhere, flying like an angry dragon to scoop him up in its white and red jaws and take him away forever.
Burying my head in the pillow, I breathed deeply of Albert’s scent, longing, wishing, hoping that when I opened my eyes he’d be laying there beside me laughing. He was my older brother, my partner in crime and sometimes its consequences. Did he even know how much he meant to me, how much I loved him? If he had, he was more cruel than I’d thought, leaving me here alone like this. How could he do that, how could he go away and leave me behind? Everyone kept spouting those eternally infuriating words: ‘to a better place’. What was wrong with this place? With being here with his sister? With his family? What was so bad about watching cartoons on Saturday morning lying on the floor eating cereal together? Or running through the high grass to the barn to climb among the timbers of the lofts? What could be so much better that he’d leave us all behind for it? Or go through the hell he did to get there?
Then there was the other phrase: ‘A merciful God…’ What kind of God would run a nine year old boy down with a car doing eighty and then let him struggle and suffer for a whole day before letting him die?
“Vanessa!” Dad’s voice hit an angry note as he turned the corner into the living room. As my focus cleared, his form solidified in front of me as I lay there on the tattered green velvet couch. His angry glare dissipated as he stood there, a giant looking down on my small frame curled there in the corner.
“Vanessa, honey, we don’t have time for this. Go find Shawn.” As he spoke, he reached down to take the pillow. Quickly I slid off the couch and scurried past him, twisting away so that his hand could not close on it. The door seemed far away as I scuttled toward it and slipped out into the cooling fall air.
“Vanessa, where are you?” Dad shouted from the hallway. I could hear his footsteps grow heavier with agitation. Even the anger growing in him did nothing to dislodge me as I tried to push away the thoughts that were beginning to spin in my head. The flannel pillow in my grasp was plump and comforting as I hugged it tight. It was checkered and soft and warm like the jacket, the one that Albert had on that day. That horrible, terrible day when the car had come out of nowhere, flying like an angry dragon to scoop him up in its white and red jaws and take him away forever.
Burying my head in the pillow, I breathed deeply of Albert’s scent, longing, wishing, hoping that when I opened my eyes he’d be laying there beside me laughing. He was my older brother, my partner in crime and sometimes its consequences. Did he even know how much he meant to me, how much I loved him? If he had, he was more cruel than I’d thought, leaving me here alone like this. How could he do that, how could he go away and leave me behind? Everyone kept spouting those eternally infuriating words: ‘to a better place’. What was wrong with this place? With being here with his sister? With his family? What was so bad about watching cartoons on Saturday morning lying on the floor eating cereal together? Or running through the high grass to the barn to climb among the timbers of the lofts? What could be so much better that he’d leave us all behind for it? Or go through the hell he did to get there?
Then there was the other phrase: ‘A merciful God…’ What kind of God would run a nine year old boy down with a car doing eighty and then let him struggle and suffer for a whole day before letting him die?
“Vanessa!” Dad’s voice hit an angry note as he turned the corner into the living room. As my focus cleared, his form solidified in front of me as I lay there on the tattered green velvet couch. His angry glare dissipated as he stood there, a giant looking down on my small frame curled there in the corner.
“Vanessa, honey, we don’t have time for this. Go find Shawn.” As he spoke, he reached down to take the pillow. Quickly I slid off the couch and scurried past him, twisting away so that his hand could not close on it. The door seemed far away as I scuttled toward it and slipped out into the cooling fall air.
The Protector
Shawn
looked at her sulky round face. Just as he was about to give in, a
shrill cry rose from beyond the boundaries of the orchard. Claire turned
white, jumped down from the rock and clung to her brother. He looked
down at her small form and put an arm around her shoulders.
“It’s okay. I won’t let ‘em bother you. They’re just fat ol’ pigs.”
“That’s not what Vanessa says.” She peeked cautiously around Shawn toward the rise that was the beginning of the orchard.
“Forget Vanessa.” But inside he felt the dread his little sister exhibited. He remembered all too well what the boar had done to the horse last winter when he’d gotten out of his pen. The vet had to be called and the horse was still walking with a limp. “Tell ya what… Let’s hide you from them. Over here…”
Shawn escorted Claire deeper into the orchard. Climbing up on top of a low rock, he gathered the tops of the dried pokeberry bushes, tied them together with a piece of baling twine he’d been using to take soldiers prisoner, then jumped down and hollowed out the center of the bushes, pressing them flat.
“Get in.” He directed Claire toward the bushes, then reached around and broke more dry stalks to cover the opening. Climbing in after her, he pulled the makeshift door over the entrance. Just as they were settling in, the hogs came grunting over the hill, sniffing loudly and rooting around the orchard’s soft soil with their snouts.
Claire and Shawn watched them rummage and poke around the orchard for a long while before they heard a long low call from the pig’s lot by the barn.
“Sewwweeeyyy! Sewwweeeyyy!” The call echoed through the valley.
“Dad’s calling the pigs home. They’ll go away soon, Claire.”
At first the smelly beasts ignored the calls, enjoying the freedom and abundant fresh food. But finally greed got the better of them and they sauntered toward home.
Shawn crawled out of the hole in the pokeberry bushes, stood up and brushed off his knees. Claire scurried out after him and proceeded to do the same. Pulling weeds from her hair he laughed and pointed to her face.
“What‘s so funny? You hid from them too,” she pouted.
“You got stuff all in your hair and purple berry juice on your face.”
“So do you. You got purple spots,” she spit back.
Shawn brushed at his face, and then looked solemnly at Claire.
“You can’t tell Dad we hid. You know we’ll get in trouble.” He was serious now.
“Yeah, I know. He’ll say…”
“ ‘I ain’t raisin no cowards.’” Shawn mimicked his father’s deep voice and Claire laughed. “He might even make us go stay in the barn tonight, with the pigs.”
Claire stopped laughing, her eyes growing large. “I won’t tell. Promise.” They gathered up Shawn’s Gi-Joe figures.
“It’s okay. I won’t let ‘em bother you. They’re just fat ol’ pigs.”
“That’s not what Vanessa says.” She peeked cautiously around Shawn toward the rise that was the beginning of the orchard.
“Forget Vanessa.” But inside he felt the dread his little sister exhibited. He remembered all too well what the boar had done to the horse last winter when he’d gotten out of his pen. The vet had to be called and the horse was still walking with a limp. “Tell ya what… Let’s hide you from them. Over here…”
Shawn escorted Claire deeper into the orchard. Climbing up on top of a low rock, he gathered the tops of the dried pokeberry bushes, tied them together with a piece of baling twine he’d been using to take soldiers prisoner, then jumped down and hollowed out the center of the bushes, pressing them flat.
“Get in.” He directed Claire toward the bushes, then reached around and broke more dry stalks to cover the opening. Climbing in after her, he pulled the makeshift door over the entrance. Just as they were settling in, the hogs came grunting over the hill, sniffing loudly and rooting around the orchard’s soft soil with their snouts.
Claire and Shawn watched them rummage and poke around the orchard for a long while before they heard a long low call from the pig’s lot by the barn.
“Sewwweeeyyy! Sewwweeeyyy!” The call echoed through the valley.
“Dad’s calling the pigs home. They’ll go away soon, Claire.”
At first the smelly beasts ignored the calls, enjoying the freedom and abundant fresh food. But finally greed got the better of them and they sauntered toward home.
Shawn crawled out of the hole in the pokeberry bushes, stood up and brushed off his knees. Claire scurried out after him and proceeded to do the same. Pulling weeds from her hair he laughed and pointed to her face.
“What‘s so funny? You hid from them too,” she pouted.
“You got stuff all in your hair and purple berry juice on your face.”
“So do you. You got purple spots,” she spit back.
Shawn brushed at his face, and then looked solemnly at Claire.
“You can’t tell Dad we hid. You know we’ll get in trouble.” He was serious now.
“Yeah, I know. He’ll say…”
“ ‘I ain’t raisin no cowards.’” Shawn mimicked his father’s deep voice and Claire laughed. “He might even make us go stay in the barn tonight, with the pigs.”
Claire stopped laughing, her eyes growing large. “I won’t tell. Promise.” They gathered up Shawn’s Gi-Joe figures.
